Grace and Reason
by Howlynn
Summary: Hathaway is late for a meeting and won't answer his phone. The reason James won't answer his phone is because he can't. Is Robbie coming undone or will he find something he lost a long time ago? T for gore.
1. Chapter 1: Hour of Our Death

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

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><p><em><strong>Summary:<strong>_

_**Hathaway is late for the meeting and won't answer his phone. The reason James won't answer is because he can't.**_

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><p><em>Robbie stood in a daze and began to walk out of her office without a word. "Robbie? Where are you going? Robbie? Inspector Lewis!" She finally said in a demand for his attention. "Where do you think you are going?"<em>

_Lewis looks as though he's drunk. He just stands there, defeated and empty. "I am going to go bring me awkward lad home. Then, I am going to go make Morse look like a water-drinker."_

**Notes:**

**I don't own any of Colin Dexter's characters, I just wanted to play with them a bit.**

**Chapter 1: Hour of our death**

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><p><em>Reason in man is rather like God in the world.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

Innocent entered her office to find Robbie Lewis sitting alone with an antsy, annoyed look on his face. She sighed and sipped her tea before setting it on her desk and removing her coat. "Did your DI Hathaway give up on my arrival?"

"No, Ma'am. He should have been here an hour ago. Probably the traffic, you know." Robbie stared down at his phone willing it to ring.

"And?" Jean asks with more consideration than before.

"I'm sure he has…it's probably nothing. He just won't answer his phone. Not like him." He replied with a shrug to cover the worry etched on his face.

"Probably wrapped up with that smash out on the eastern bypass. It's said to be horrific. At least one fatality. Several on the way to hospital. Going to take them a while to sort. That's what took me so long to get here. The driving conditions are beastly."

Robbie nodded. "Phones still working. Not like me former bagman to ignore his old guv."

"We can wait a few more minutes, if you prefer. We ought to discuss how we can interest him in stepping up to the plate and making good on his fast track potential. I have a stack of applications here on my desk of those wanting to advance and the one application I hope to see, is poignantly absent. I realize he has only been a DI for a short period, but he looks to you, still, and I want you to encourage him to move forward. Now, I understand you got the secret Morse code and it seems to require a number of extra years to impart, but, don't hold him back like your Governor did you Robbie. You spent years spinning your wheels and I am not arguing that they had no value. " she raised her hand stopping his argument in its tracks.

"I can't force…"

"It is a temporary leadership position that would put him in good position for later advancement. I know the two of you are woe to be separated but he would not be that far away. As soon as possible I would have him back here. You do realize, that I hope to groom him as my own…"

The phone in her office buzzed and she smiled as if their question was about to be answered about Mr. Fast-track's whereabouts and therefore they would have time to scheme against his career stagnation long enough to launch an effective promote Hathaway crusade. She lifted the receiver and Lewis busied himself with sending texts berating James for his tardiness and in general taking the piss to Hathaway about how he was just giving Innocent time to fill out promotion papers. He knew this would wind James up like nothing else when he pretended to agree with their boss.

"I see. I see. Dear God." He glanced up at Jean Innocent to find her pallor white and a look of horror struck on her face. "No he's here. In my office. We were waiting for… him to begin our meeting. Who is on scene? I will be there as quickly as possible. Yes, thank you. "

Robbie held his breath, feeling darkness distance him from the world. His heart stuttered as he waited.

She hung the phone up and took a deep breath, but the tears welled in her eyes and all she could manage was, "Oh Robbie. I am so sorry…"

Robert Lewis stood and then sat back down. His phone fumbled out of his hand and he stooped to retrieve it. "He's been hurt?" he finally sputtered out with his false calm that came with the shock of a heart edging toward breaking.

Jean seemed to recover herself and didn't draw out the torture. "The accident out on the bypass. Right on the Thames bridge. Divers on scene have identified the car as matching his registration plates. The driver is pinned inside. He's dead, Robbie. My deepest condolences."

"Confirmed?" Robbie whispered hoarsely.

Jean sighed deeply, bracing herself for the information she was about to deliver. "Not officially. I am very sorry, but the answer here isn't pleasant. He was trapped in the car. It was engulfed in flames. Nobody could get to him because the car was in danger of falling in the river any second. There was a secondary chain collision. It fell. Nobody escaped. There are divers trying to get to the car, but the weather is exacerbating the difficulty of extraction. The remains are not expected to be visually identifiable."

Robbie stood in a daze and began to walk out of her office without a word. "Robbie? Where are you going? Robbie? Inspector Lewis!" She finally said in a demand for his attention. "Where do you think you are going?

Robbie looks as though he's drunk. He just stands there, defeated and empty. "I am going to go bring me awkward lad home. Then I am going to go make Morse look like a water-drinker."

"I don't think it will serve you in any way to see…him…you don't want that to be…"she attempted carefully.

"No. I'd rather not see him like he's going to be. But he's me best mate and I'll not turn me eye from him now. My duty as his Guv'ner, to see him well and done home. Whatever's left of him, Ma'am, he's still me poor James," he said with a determined emotionless voice.

"Detective Inspector Hathaway was a fine man. I have to say, it is my opinion that he would choose to spare you that obligation, considering… Let them handle it, Robbie. He's one of us. You know the remains will be treated with the highest level of respect and diffidence." She pleaded, knowing it would do no good.

Robbie half-smiled and half sobbed. He braced himself on the door-frame to keep from crumbling. "I don't care. I have to do this…it's the last…I have to go…and…"

Jean stepped forward and hooked her arm in his soothingly. They both gave into the need for human contact at such times and clung to each other for a few heartbeats. Slowly an office full of activity quieted as all went on alert to the unusual scene in the boss's doorway.

Her voice was gentle as she guided him back into her office, "I know. Give me a moment to find someone to drive us. I won't let you behind a wheel in this state. I need to inform his Sergeant as well."

Robbie nodded gratefully, but patted her hand. "I need a quick trip to the gent's. Be right back."

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><p><em>Thank you for reading - I hope you will stick with me for a bit and give me a review. This is up on A03 if you can't stand to wait, same name, Howlynn<em>


	2. Chapter 2 :Valley of Tears

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Valley of Tears<strong>

Summary:

Lewis overhears a conversation that adds to his pain.

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><p><em>Most men seem to live according to sense rather than reason.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

He'd sat down in a stall to fall apart quietly after emptying his stomach of his meager breakfast. He lost track of time in his grief. Footsteps and whispers were heard, startling Robbie out of his memories. Nobody knew he sat in the last stall. Robbie was silent, fearing anyone finding him blubbering in the toilet like a jilted lass.

Nothing like the nick for the quick spread of gossip, and evidently Robbie had been in the gent's longer than he'd thought.

"Poor sod. I wonder if they told the full thing to his old Guv? Looks like someone will get a shot at his pretty Sergeant after all? Did you see Hammonds in there bringing the tearful DS Maddox tea and having a pity chat-up?"

"Stop that, she's got a bloke, don't she? Still mad about him and happily married, I hear. A witness on scene said his holiness died screaming. Still alive and burning when he tipped into the water. "

"Burned then drowned in that cold dark water. I can't imagine the kind of pain that must have been. And now they can't get to it. Wedged into the muck and caught on a piling. Can't even cut him out 'til they sort that. The poor bugger."

"He'll be a right sopping scramble when they do. They have any kindness for the old man, they will keep him away."

"Twenty quid says Lewis will be next. Stab one and the other bleeds. He's been a topper waiting to happen for years. Probably going cardiac as we speak."

"I hope God shows my carcass more mercy. Go out like that? They say he was a fallen priest. Just makes you wonder, don't it?"

"Wonder what?"

"You know. What'd he do that was so bad, that after his Guv saved him from burning once that it still happened. Didn't get saved from the fire this time, did he? It's freaking creepy. Fire and flood. God's wrath and all…"

"Come on, he was alright. Bit Poncy and all but, a good bloke. Brilliant brain, just a bit broody and such."

"Bit in love with the old man you mean. Wonder if the old toff even knew or cared."

"Don't be a git. Lewis is dating Doc Hobson and was married back in the Stone Age. You're just obsessed with buggery, Phillips."

"Piss off. I know what I know and not the first time rumors about Lewis batting for both teams. Hathaway? No question about it. Well, we all know where he grew up for one thing."

"You might be right. Who knows what they got up to. Always seemed thick as thieves now that you mention it."

"Come on. Lewis isn't gay. Poor old plodder. I feel sorry for him. Think that tall git of his was his only mate these days. But that doesn't mean…"

" He and the great legend, supposedly got up to a bit as well. My old man served with them in the golden olden years and he said it was a fact. Old Morse and his posh ways, had him a bit of Geordie rough on the side when he couldn't get a leg over his fancy women. Left Lewis a fortune and that big old red car. Bet he's got it stashed somewhere and uses it to seduce … "

"Sir!" the shortest constable said in shock and horror when he heard the stall door slam and turned to see Detective Inspector Lewis in full blown fury.

Lewis walked up to Phillips and glared. His voice was quiet and his eyes never wavered from the constable's face. "I did know your old man. Son. Couldn't detect his way out of your Mum's knickers most days. Thought you showed some promise. What a shame that I was wrong."

"Sir, in all fairness you should have made your presence known."

Robbie exploded. "In all fairness, you will die as judgmentally as you lived and if anyone forgives you, count on Hathaway. He'd pray for your black little hearts and it's a good thing, that, because it'd be a soft day in hell, before I would."

He looked so disgusted that all three young men looked ashamed. Robbie stormed out of the facilities and bumped straight into Innocent. "God, Robbie, where did you go? I looked everywhere. Is Phillips in there? He's driving us over."

Robbie shook his head. "Not if my life depended on it. Get Gray. He can drive us. Phillips is as big of an arse-hole as his dear old dad. He'd do well to stay out of my way for as long as you don't want to see a poor old Geordie plodder like me up on the suspect board."

Innocent sent Robbie to find Sergeant Grey and she had a short conversation with three red-faced constables.


	3. Chapter 3: Lead All Souls

**Chapter 3: Lead all Souls**

**Summary:**

Robbie may be losing his mind just a little bit. Everyone tries to help.

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><p><em>Justice is a certain rectitude of mind whereby a man does what he ought to do in the circumstances confronting him.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

They had been standing on the bridge for four hours. It was as if daylight had never quite stuck. The death of James Hathaway had sucked all the light from the world. Robbie stood stoic and immune to the weather for once. He felt like there was a volcano burning him and the drizzling sleet and the driving wind and even the lightening felt like they were feeding him strength to see this through.

James Hathaway's burned, police issue car had been covered in muck and unrecognizable as it had been towed up to surface the first time. It was mangled but the charred and muddied blob shape of a human being had been glimpsed, still wedged in place, lump of a head thrown back in silent agony. Lewis turned away just before the cable had snapped.

Back into the Thames the water laden car rushed, rumbling the whole structure as the swift water plowed it into an even more inaccessible position, as if James were saying for them all to leave him alone.

Robbie could hear his former Sergeant's voice niggling at the back of his mind. "This is private, Sir. It's between me and God. He won't let you retrieve me. I can't be buried properly, you know. I did not die in Grace, Sir."

Three more hours and the car was still giving no quarter. The light was going fast and the weather conditions continuing to deteriorate as Sergeant Maddox finally approached him, handing him yet another hot cuppa, to explain that they were shutting down the recovery for the night.

They needed a crane and it could not be operated in these weather conditions even if they had been able to get it there before dark. It made Robbie sick to think of James being left in the icy dark murk all alone.

Robbie argued that they could not leave him down there all night. It took Jean Innocent and Laura Hobson both to convince him that they couldn't endanger lives to recover the dead. Robbie finally acquiesced and though he could barely move, he was so cold, wet and disheartened, they bundled him onto the car and insisted on taking him home.

Jean and Laura were talking about him as if he were not even sitting in the car. Liz was picked up by Tony, looking almost as miserable as Robbie. They discussed the logistics of him as if he were a case to be solved. Robbie interrupted them, "What the bloody hell was he even doing out here?"

Both women stopped talking at his suddenly blurted question. He looked at them and shook his head before continuing, "Wrong way. He was going the wrong way. Don't you see? He was in a rush to work. He wouldn't have decided to faff off and take a lookie-loo. There is no reason for him to be here. Why is he here?"

"I'm sorry, Robbie. We don't have any answers yet. You were the last one to speak to him. Did he mention an errand? Or was he staying…with a friend? He's young and very single," Innocent responded carefully.

"No. He was home last night. Had a pint over at the Trout and dropped him round home meself. Going to fiddle with some old files and knock off, he was. Had no idea it was the last time I'd ever…Jesus, James. Dammit, lad. This was out of his way between his flat and work," Robbie insisted.

"I don't know, Robbie, but we will find out." Jean Innocent assured him "Anyway, I will let you two get home. I won't let you on scene tomorrow, Robbie. You are on leave. I'm sorry, but this is not good for you."

Robbie snorted and gave a grimace of a smile that obviously said wild horses would not stop him.

Laura put on her cool professional face and determinedly stated,"Right now, we just want to get you home. That's what he'd want, you know. He'd be chomping at the bit for you to get warm and dry. Standing out there like Greyfriar's Bobby all day, soaked to the skin. He'd be pulling one of those horrid guilt-ridden faces and grousing about you catching pneumonia," Laura added with a fond twinkle in her eye.

Jean nodded, "He'd have some obscure quote to throw at us and Ma'am me to distraction until I ordered you home. The only reason I haven't so far was because I knew it wouldn't do any good."

Robbie's face twisted and he nodded, unable to respond.

Laura had left him in the car when she ran in to get take-away. He'd thumbed his phone absently and dialed the boy's number, just to hear his voice on the answer service. He'd shoved it into his pocket before Laura returned to the car.

"Ok, won't be long now. Just around the corner, we will be home, love." She'd said kindly.

"No. Take me to his. I won't fight you, but please. I need to be at his…with him. Just for tonight. I was happy there and he wouldn't mind. I just need to…" Robbie drifted off with a shivery sigh.

After a moment of huddled conversation in which Laura mostly got mumbles to her questions, she gave in and drove him to Hathaway's flat. Laura was determined to go in with him. "I don't want you to be alone."

"But that's just exactly what I need. I need to talk to him. Laura. Can you understand that? I need to … See, I have been standing out there all day. I lost my God-bothering rights after Val, you know. But in the station, before they knew I was in the gents with them, one of 'em said he must of deserved to die like that…and…

"Oh, Robbie. You know that's—"

"Bollocks. Yeah I do. But Me heart's breaking, see. Cause he would have thought it too. I can hear him now, talking about dying without receiving his Viaticum. On that bridge, I swear he explained it to me. The darkness won't let us have him because he didn't die in grace. I know what it sounds like and maybe I am a bit of an old bampot, but I just know that he doesn't feel gone."

Laura Hobson took a deep breath and leaned her head back thinking. "I don't think this is a good idea. It's a bit morbid, staying here, isn't it? Talking to his ghost?"

"Aye, but he's not my only one, if you remember. Talk to them all. Always have. It's how I cope. Something is calling me here. Can't explain it. I need to be here. So I am going to have me a hot shower and then God and me are having a little talk. Been praying all day, and my James is not getting locked out of eternity if there is one. Going to call that Father Andrew friend of his and get him to find us a loophole. You can fuss over me tomorrow, but I have things to do tonight. Please?" Robbie said as if this was just any day and he was on a case.

Laura looked sick to her stomach. "When this is over, I think there may be cause for us to have an extensive conversation about James. Not now, of course, but Robbie…"

Robbie kept talking, "Tomorrow, I will mourn good and proper. I will even let you fuss if you want. Right now, he's just this concept of death, wedged out there under a bridge on the A423. I can't save him for me, you see. But I need the chance, to save him, for him."

She sighed and shook her head. "It's a bad idea. Don't make me regret it." Laura handed him the take-away she'd planned to share with him and insisted that he call her if he needed anything else.

Robbie kissed her cheek and maneuvered his creaking bones out of her car. "Hey. How will you know? If it works, I mean?"

Robbie turned and thought about it. "I won't. Guess that's what the boy was always going on about. Faith. 'We are saved by faith alone, but the faith that saves is never alone.' ― Martin Luther. I have to make sure he's not alone. That's all," Robbie said with a soft smile.

"But you are leaving me alone, to do that," Laura said softly.

Robbie didn't say anything; he just stood in the cold looking miserable.

"Go on, then," Laura finally said with a heavy sigh and a nod.


	4. Chapter 4 : Plenary Indulgence

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Plenary Indulgence<strong>

Summary:

Robbie follows his own calling.

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><p><em>Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.<em>

_Thomas Aquinas_

Robbie put his key in the lock and turned the knob to find the door still locked. He fiddled with the lock several times before determining that it must have been unlocked in the first place. Well, he reasoned, the boy was in a hurry this morning, got in a smash up over it, left his door open on accident.

He stopped in the landing and closed his eyes taking a deep breath. He could smell James. It made him think of alter candles, in that his intention was to pray him into heaven just like the candles did for believers. James was sacred to Robbie and this scent was just an ephemeral whiff of the life that would soon fade. Like Val, the scent of his skin would dwindle from the world, never to return.

Robbie crossed to the kitchen slowly, brow furrowed at the mess. He righted a chair, picked a pillow off the floor. Someone had been here. His heart pounded at the thought of this intrusion. Who would come here? How dare they? His family hadn't even been notified yet. At some point he would have to snoop into the boy's life and make those horrible calls. Maybe Father Andrew could help.

He poured himself a generous glass of the whiskey he and James favored when he was getting cabbaged with his Sergeant turned friend, after a case. It had been a while since James was his anything, but it was still in the cupboard, waiting for him. He felt more than a little regret at the way things had turned out.

They had never been quite the same after his long Spanish walk. When Robbie had come back, he hadn't felt very welcome on that first case. The dynamics had changed. Robbie had to bite his tongue and walk on eggshells at times, keeping Hathaway as his equal and not his Sergeant. Part of it was that he'd retired and come back just to help, part of it was that he and Laura were giving it a go and part of it was that Hathaway had a Sergeant of his own now who he owed his time to. James had been very generous with including him in he and Lizzy's pub time and all, but it wasn't just the two of them any longer. James was in some ways, more playful at times, but he was also more distant at others. They no longer had the sleepover dynamics of before Robbie's retirement.

He'd sat the take-away on the counter and it was just so normal that he expected a snotty quote to be spewed at him any second. The flat was silent without James.

Robbie leaned on the counter and slowly crumpled to the floor in the kitchen. Just for a few moments, he gave into his pure sorrow for the first time. He'd held most of it in while he was in the Gent's and he sure hadn't let anyone see anything like this on scene. He didn't take long or give into gasping moans of why, but he quietly hissed out quite a few tears and developed a little tick of jealousy. He wished it had been him in the boy's place. Robbie had lived his life and when it came time for him to join Val, Morse and now James, he had no intention of fighting. The first chance he had to get out of his old bones, he was slipping off without so much as a blip. His kids were grown and he didn't want to be a burden.

Laura would have given him a bollocking for this line of thinking, but at the moment he just couldn't help it. He was tired of being left behind.

Now he was abandoned again and all he wanted, in that second, was to go too. He sat on the floor as his mind whirled moment after moment of the last few years. His imagination melded their first meeting and he could almost picture James carefully drawing his name on a bit of parchment to hold up for him the second he joined him. A small smile slowly crept on his face until the witness accounts began to seep into his sweet visions.

Hathaway's estimated speed was double the posted limit. He'd been driving erratically and if he'd lived would have been arrested for dangerous driving. Robbie wondered if there was some explanation. Resigned, he knew he needed to get into some hot water and dry clothing, make a phone call, get some food in himself and then get his heart ready for a bit of a snoop.

In the bedroom, he knew he'd find a choice of clean dry clothes. They had long ago begun leaving things to wear at each-others, because it was just more convenient. The Whisky was still there and he'd bet after all this time, he still had a drawer in the dresser, untouched and waiting for him to have a cabbaged kip at Hathaway's again.

The bedroom was a tip.

He stood there and grew angry. Someone had searched the lad's room and hadn't been very careful about it. The wardrobe hung open and all of Hathaway's suits had been slung to the floor, still on the hangers. One by one, Robbie picked them up and gently hung them back in the wardrobe.

One caught his attention, it was a deep black, velvet collared formal morning coat with chalk stripe trousers. He'd never seen it on him, but assumed that James wore it for the odd formal occasion. Lewis hung it on the front of the wardrobe, set aside to be sent to the undertaker, though Robbie could barely admit the significance of his actions. He smoothed a bit of lint off the collar and added a white satin waistcoat, an expensive looking white shirt and then he selected and rejected a matching white tie for James' ridiculous pink one.

He smiled as he hung that silly tie through the hanger. He often wondered if the pink one really was James' favorite or if he just wore it so often to rile his off-the-peg, traditional cut and colors, old Guv. He suspected that it was a bit of both. He'd not worn it since he'd made DI.

A tear escaped as his vision blurred, remembering how he'd fretted over what to bury Val in. 'Definitely the pink tie, Sergeant, unless you have any objection?" If heaven or hell were crowded, he'd be able to spot his bagman straight off and if he were looking down, somehow near, it would be a last little joke between them.

"There now, soft lad. Send you off proper and see if they let pink tie wearing sods past the gates," Robbie murmured to the empty room, just in case some bit of James was near. It would explain why Robbie felt the boy with all his heart.

He'd known when Val was gone. He'd felt something odd when Morse died too, almost like someone childlike had sprinkled a flash of confetti and joy. With Val, an empty misery had settled in him, but he could swear James was not gone at all. He had felt him on the bridge, but he felt him stronger now, as if he were silently watching, waiting for something. Robbie even looked superstitiously into the mirror expecting to see a cliché' Hathaway shaped mist hovering behind him.

He sighed and dismissed these morbid flights of imagination. Robbie gathered his change of clothes and shook his head. He wondered about the family. They would probably swoop in and disapprove of his clothing choice.

He wondered about the boy's guitar. Would they squabble over it or just sell it straight away, not having any idea what it meant to him. He'd want that more than anything, for sentiment, though he knew it was worth a bit of money too. He'd pay whatever they asked.

He was well acquainted with the transformations people went through, from human being to vulture, as soon as the word of someone's death got out. He decided that he would take the guitar home for now, so it didn't sneak out the door during the confusion. He was surprised that whoever burgled the boy had left it.

He found the door to the loo locked. He knocked and demanded that if anyone were in there that they come out at once. Feeling foolish he tried to force the handle but his temper got the better of him and suddenly he kicked the door, cracking the frame and doing a lot of noisy damage in the process.

The first thing he saw was a red handprint on the white tub. The smell of blood and sick hit him next and confused he stepped into the small room and found a familiar shoe slung over the side of the porcelain fixture.

It was filled with a familiar foot with a familiar bony ankle attached. His heart beat wild and thunderous as his eyes fell on the battered face of an unconscious man. The face looked monstrous with blood smeared around like paint, but he would know the man anywhere. He blinked his eyes trying to get the vision to swim away. His hand reached out to touch the impossible hallucination, expecting it to fade, but instead he felt the warm skin and clammy sweat of Detective Inspector James Hathaway.

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><p><em>There now, did it just get a bit better? Any thoughts? I do love reviews and all that jazz.<em>


	5. Chapter 5: From the Fires

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: From the Fires<strong>

Summary:

What Lewis found and a few answers.

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><p><em>There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

"James, Lad? Can you hear me?"

One of James' eyes opened and he took a thin breath. "Sir. What took you so long?"

"Oh, God. Oh dear God," Robbie said in wonder.

"Did they catch him?" James asked as if he could barely speak.

"I thought you were dead. I can't even think," Robbie blurted.

"Still possible. Head is bad and something's broken. Can't seem to get out of the tub. Or move my legs, Robert," James said softly, fear flashing through his joy and pain for a split second. "Thought you'd never get here. So thirsty."

"It's alright. It's all bloody brilliant. I'm here now." Robbie's brain finally came back online and he dialed 999 to request an ambulance and dumped toothbrushes into the sink. He only allowed the boy a few sips of water and by the time the ambulance arrived, Hathaway was only semi-conscious.

When he'd called Laura requesting she meet him at the hospital, she'd immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, demanding to know what he'd done. He'd had to tell her three times that he'd found James. Which she'd instantly also interpreted as some sort of admission that he'd tried to do himself some kind of harm. She didn't believe him when he told her that the boy was alive. Instead she demanded to know what Lewis had taken.

He called the Chief and had a similar round of questions demanding explanation of how this was possible. Laura entered the waiting room just in time to hear Robbie's side of the conversation. "It was a robbery. Probably random opportunity. He was attacked. Never saw the bloke until he was being beaten with a tire lever. Barricaded himself in the loo. He's been stuck, bleeding and trying not to bloody die. Look, it's probably pretty bad. They think, well, be prepared, because he has no feeling from down past his shoulders. He waited all bloody day for help, while we were all out on the carriageway lamenting his death. I don't bloody well care who was in the car right now. The one who nicked his car and left him to die, I imagine. Wasn't my awkward sod. I told you he didn't feel gone. "

Hathaway's injuries were serious. The paralysis was temporary and classified as Neurapraxia. The concussion had worried the doctors the most, because he'd spent so long incapacitated before discovery.

If Robbie hadn't demonstrated such a case of sentimental grief, it would have been days before they got around to identifying that the body in the Thames wasn't his young bagman. They were of similar build, but fire and then twenty-four hours in the water would have made it impossible for even Robbie to have identified the remains. James would have slowly faded away, waiting for someone to come. The thought of that had made Robbie have to leave the room for a while to calm his stomach.

Innocent followed him out to the covered section of the car park to check on him. Robbie was quiet when she asked if he was okay. "First thing he asked me was what took me so long?"

"I don't mean to pry, but what on earth made you go to his place, instead? I never thought to check. He wasn't missing. We all thought…"

Robbie closed his eyes and his chin quivered. He had to swallow a few times to get out his clipped, rasping reply. "Grace alone. Couldn't go home. Laura was bloody furious."

"Did you suspect something? One of your Morse-magic moments?" she asked with confusion.

Robbie shook his head. "Not a thing. Picked out clothes for him, to be…you know." He shrugged.

"I see. Very lucky chain of events then, don't you think? Off the record, Robert. What is the nature of your relationship with DI Hathaway? I will not treat this as an official disclosure, simply will keep it in mind for now, in order to protect against any-"

"For God's sake, I am not cheating on Laura or shagging me former bagman. If that's what your trying to say. He's me best mate. Why the hell would you think…Oh, I see. The little pukes at the nick. Aye?"

"Something like that. In all honesty, do you think James's feelings for you have, perhaps migrated into territory you would consider inappropriate? Because, I have been deflecting this whole mystery for years and well…this just makes me wonder. I mean, do you think.." She gave him an unblinking assessing look.

"Jesus. No I do not."

She placed her hand on his arm to soothe the anger, "No, I am not judging, or wanting to use it against either of you. It's just, you are his only next of kin and, Robbie, I have to say that I see something more there too. So does Laura."

He snorted through his nose in disapproval and his amused offence glared from his blue eyes, "Strange had this conversation with Morse about me once. Did you know that? Well things were looked on a lot different back then, but I will say the same thing he said, so pardon the crude language." His voice took on the cadence and exaggerated vowels of his late governor, "The boy worships the ground I walk on and I'd be done with him if it were otherwise. We two do things a bit different from your pet pairs, because we catch people who like to kill. Their job is murder, their hobby, their calling. Every day that boy holds my very life in his hands, and I his. One mistake, one moment that the two of us get out of sync, and all this trouble I have put into his education is lost. Who knows how many future lives that would cost. Are we more than some? Of course we are. Have to be. All those future lives are held in our hands, and that, dear Chief, is a far superior thing to hold and bond over than each other's John Thomas."

Innocent stood silently for a moment, mouth gapped open and suddenly her eyes looked like they were ready to erupt with joy and the sound of it came out of her mouth as she tipped her head back and hooted. "That was bloody marvelous. I can't believe he said that to Strange. He was his own Guv, was he not?"

"Fred Thursday was and he was more like a father to Morse. He was always a bit of a buffer for Morse and Strange. They had a hard time getting along for years after Thursday passed. Morse and Strange were like chalk and cheese, but they still worked well together. He said Strange looked mad as hell for about ninety seconds then he started chuckling. Ask Morse if he looked up to him that way once. Morse was smart enough to grin and tell him that he still did. Then he called the boss a bum-numbing boff and it was never brought up again."

"Apologies. I did want to make sure."

Robbie shrugged and relaxed a little, " Course you did. Not to disparage me own charms, Ma'am, but whatever you think you may see, the boy could do a hell of a lot better than the likes of me in that department."

Innocent raised her eyebrow in disagreement, "Robert Lewis, you re an idiot. You grow on people. If you actually bothered to smile once in a while, you might give any competition a hard run for their money."

Robbie did smile in embarrassment, and then added just under his breath, "Been meaning make an eye appointment for some time, have you, Ma'am? Hospitals this way." He extended his arm as if escorting the blind. It received a playful slap for his cheek.


	6. Chapter 6: Those who Trespass

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: Those who Trespass<p>

Summary:

James and Robbie deal with the aftermath and injury.

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><p><em>If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it in port forever.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

James and Robbie passed the time talking about that day, but only in a general way. They carefully skirted much of the emotional side, but Hathaway, filters bent with pain pills, was a bit more open than his normal careful insinuating quotation language.

It had gone through his bagman's head that Liz and Robbie might never come for him and by the time it had gone dark, he'd admitted that he'd given up and accepted that he'd prolonged his suffering by taking refuge in the loo, but that he'd done himself no favors by fighting. He'd worried that something was wrong, but could not imagine any scenario that had not ended with someone popping round when he didn't show up for the meeting.

That morning had been so unexceptionally normal. Hathaway had spoken to Liz and then Robbie about the weather, planned to leave early for the meeting and was in the process of hauling his necessities to his car when he'd been attacked by a man who followed him in the house while his guard was down. He'd left the door standing open and bent to lift a box of files when he'd heard a loud noise and found himself on the floor.

Pain had exploded in his head and he'd awoken bloody with the man still in the house. He'd used the last of his reserve to crawl to the loo and just locked the door as the man had tried to break it in. Hathaway had lost consciousness before the man had stopped trying to force the door. It had evidently held long enough that the man had found whatever he wanted and left the beaten man to die before any fellow coppers showed up at his door.

Hathaway had stood up and remembered no more until he'd surprisingly found himself toppled into the clawfoot tub he considered the best feature of his flat.

He'd lived in a haze of pain and fear when he discovered he couldn't move his legs and had no way of knowing if the man was gone or waiting to finish him off. He didn't have any way of assessing his injuries, he only knew that what didn't hurt, he couldn't feel at all.

James had no means of contacting anyone and had no measure of telling time with the storm. His watch had been smashed as he'd tried to cover his head against the beating. He'd lain in the darkness, heard movement out in the flat, but was afraid to make a sound for fear the thief had somehow returned to finish him off. Helpless and terrified, he prayed that whatever was about to happen, that it end soon. The next thing he'd been aware of was Lewis bent over him with a look of horror on his face.

By the time Robbie had found him, he was at a loss as to why nobody cared enough to even check on him. He'd waited all day to hear someone knocking and demanding he open the door. He had no idea about the accident or the mistaken identity. He'd tried to heave his uncooperative body out of the tub, but didn't have the physical strength and his leg had landed cocked over the side and further complicated his ability to find leverage. He'd eventually given up, exhausted into patience.

He'd shouted for help a few times but it made the pain in his head go from excruciating to leviathan.

The man who died in his car had been in and out of mental facilities for the better part of his life. He was thought to be in the throes of one of his psychotic episodes that had plagued his life with violent outbursts and detachment from reality. James and Robbie attended his small family memorial in London. James was mortified to be wheeled about in a chair and helped with the toilet and bathing.

Lewis got over any shyness at doing what was necessary after Laura instructed him on how to move a patient efficiently. He took great pride in his ability get James sorted and allow him as much dignity as was possible. James hated every second of the arrangement, but couldn't bear the thought of anyone else assisting him in these matters.

Waiting for the trauma in his spine to fully heal was a frustrating and depressing time for James and Robbie tried his best to show the boy how much it meant that he was alive at all.

"You don't have to do this, Sir. It wasn't me. I am only half dead and completely useless." James snapped one afternoon.

Robbie sighed heavily, "Your brain works fine and the rest of you is healing. You have to be patient. This isn't permanent and feeling sorry for yourself won't gain you a bloody thing. How dare you not understand what a gift this is? For a whole day, you were dead to me. I know now it wasn't you, but up here, "Robbie tapped his temple with his finger as if he could prod the image to leave, "It's still you I saw in that bloody car. I even wished a couple of times I had not saved you because, well, she'd drugged you, this way was so… They were so close to him. They had tried, just good Samaritans. Didn't have the means to help him. He was wedged in so tight even rescue couldn't have done anything. I heard the interviews. It wasn't fast or pleasant, poor sod. My imagination didn't do me any favors."

"You are right. Sorry, Robert."

"It tore me up hearing that he begged them, begged God, begged that they kill him. ' Don't let me burn', was the last thing he said and then it was screaming and thrashing to no avail. Another car hit them and injured three people standing there helpless. Yours tipped in the water then. Laura told me it would have been very quick. Asked her why and she said the pain of that cold water on burnt skin would have made him suck the water in at once and that shock was a mercy in some cases. Ever seen a car go in the water? Takes a while for it to settle. I knew she was lying. I knew even that end of it, had not been that quick. I thought that was you. I would have done anything on earth to have spared you that. I think it would have killed me to have to live with it." Robbie tilted his head as if to plead for James to talk to him.

James sat picking at the arm of his hated chair, but he finally spoke, low and full of regret,"I can't feel much sympathy for him. I feel forgiveness and pity, Sir. He did this to me. He did this so he could take my car. This could be forever, still. Nobody wants to face that I may never be what I was again. For the price of a car that he only drove for fifteen minutes at most. I could have bought him a ticket to London and none of this had to happen. It's not fair. I am sorry he died, truly, but I have to account for myself and that bloody car and I have no idea what to do."

Robert Lewis sighed and reached out stilling James' hand as he spoke with surety,"Right now, you let me sodding enjoy that that bloody brilliant brain of yours still works and that I will get to see you wear that stupid pink tie of yours again. That maybe someday, I will go somewhere with you fancy enough for you to turn heads in that posh kit still hanging on the front of your wardrobe. Right now, you read your snooty-poncy books to your hearts content and work hard on your physical therapy and you have a free pass to be as cheeky and rude to me as you want. Blame it on the pills and I won't care. Because, right now, anything you have to say to me is a whole world better than goodbye." Robbie leaned over James, hands digging into the bony shoulders gently and actually smiled wide and true, then patted the side of his face not sporting mottled purple bruises in the process of turning a sickly yellow.

James couldn't stand the infectious quality of his Governor's delight in his continued existence. He sighed with amused contentment and quietly said, "Free Pass. That almost makes it worth the trouble, Sir."

Robbie deadpanned, "Caution advised though. I am old and grouchy, so don't push me so far that I light you on fire meself, Hmm? No more talk like you are any sort of a bother to me. I am nothing but thankful for every bit of this. And what's with the sir business? I thought we'd moved on to first names and philandering? Washing your skivvies is about as romantic as I get, daft lad. Can't sir me after that!"

James smirked, "Flirting may be frowned upon once we are back at the nick. Probably want to keep what gets my kettle bubbling under your hat, Sir."

Robbie blushed then said with a smirk, "Knowing you, whatever it is, it'd be so posh I wouldn't have a clue what to do with it anyway. Flirting, my arse."

James whistled as Robbie headed to the kitchen. Robbie turned and James looked as if his friends surprise was confusing, "Very nice, sir. Your arse, that is. You would be surprised at who I have observed admiring it when you are not looking."

"We deal with murdering lunatics all day, Detective Inspector. Can't say that says much for the mental focus of anyone that finds it worthy."

"Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind." Hathaway retorted.

Robbie seemed to consider James' words for a moment, then shrugged as if he accepted, "Nutters like my arse. Good. You will be a fine Chief Super one day, lad."

Robbie brought the two of them tea and clicked on the game. His phone beeped and Robbie read the text and frowned.

"Laura must be rather looking forward to your return home. You have barely seen her for the last two weeks." James mentioned as if he were just making conversation.

Robbie looked guilty but just shrugged.

James waited for his tea to be gone then finally asked as if he were disappointed, "So you have no plans to tell me the truth then? That is most unsatisfactory, Robert."

Robbie sighed and winced, "I didn't want to worry you, lad. Not sure what is going on meself. One day at a time."

"It might help if you didn't ignore her texts. If I am causing this rift, then—"

"No. You are not the problem. She and I have things to sort. This just brought it out a bit faster. She knows I have to be here right now, she just…I don't know. It's all going a bit pear-shaped. What did she say to you, then?" Robbie asked.

"That I should flirt with you and see what happens," James accused.

"Good. And Bob's your Uncle." Robbie replied with finality.


	7. Chapter 7: This Our Exile

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: This Our Exile<p>

Summary:

Innocent has a little meeting with Robbie about James.

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><p><em>Because philosophy arises from awe, a philosopher is bound in his way to be a lover of myths and poetic fables. Poets and philosophers are alike in being big with wonder.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

The first time James stood on his own, and not with the contraptions of physical therapy, it was both a triumph and a moment of realization. Hathaway might fully recover, but his days chasing subjects and tackling them in flower stalls were behind him.

He looked at Robbie who grinned at him with pure joy and all James could feel at that moment was a desire to step in front of a bus. Then he felt guilty, knowing that the last thing he could do, would be to ever cause Robbie to relive that sort of pain a second time.

He let Robbie take him to the pub and buy him his favorite, Steak, mushroom, and Guinness pie, and seven pints of best to wash it down. James was thoroughly befuggered. Robbie held it better but he was feeling no pain and had a terrible case of toothy grins planted on his face and they had not left as the evening wore on.

"You are ridiculously smiley this evening, Ro … Bert. Row-bert. Bert. Why are you not a Bert, rather than a Robbie. Robbie. Nobody can call you that because normally you are not smiley enough to earn it, you see? " James said as if imparting some magical wisdom.

The pub owner called them a cab.

The next morning they had bickered thanks to the raging chemical lobotomy working its way out of their pores. It turned into a major row and Robbie stormed out slamming the door. James realized at once that he'd said a stupid thing, but he was so angry at everything that this just added to the fuel. He sat down on the sofa and pulled his guitar to himself and began to play.

When it got dark, he didn't move, he just kept playing. It grew late and Robbie Lewis was never coming back. James smoked and stared into the darkness. As the sun rose, he fell asleep.

Robbie's day did not get better. He waited for James to text him and when he didn't, his hurt grew legs and stepped in a hole full of stubborn. He wasn't on duty until the next day, so he went round to Laura's. She was not unhappy to see him, but she was distant and introspective. He slept there, but he felt like a guest.

He went to work and just before noon, Jean called him into her office. She inquired about James and he gave her polite answers. She looked uncomfortable and looked down at the file in her hand. "Remember that thing I asked you, right when we found James was alive and you told me what Morse told Strange?"

Robbie stilled and carefully responded, "Aye?"

"I didn't want to…But, I think you have the right to know. It was not just rumors that had me asking. I know you were focused on, getting James help. I sort of assume that you were not paying attention to the writing on the wall?" Jean said softly.

"I don't know what you mean," Robbie insisted.

She smiled a little and carefully laid a crime scene photo in front of him across her desk. "I don't mean metaphorical writing on the wall. I mean, James left a note. For you. In his own blood. And I know from Laura, that you didn't see it. I made the decision that it would not be in the general file, because it, well, it didn't matter for a case one way or the other. It was private. Laura said you and he had a row."

"You and Laura seem to do an awful lot of this meddling thing lately," Lewis groused.

"Laura cleaned the flat. She wanted to give James a chance to tell you in his own way. Maybe he thought you did see it and decided to not respond. I don't know. What you do or don't do with this is up to you," She said with dismissal in her voice.

"I don't know what to say to this Ma'am. I swear to you that I didn't lie to you. He's never…" Robbie is looking at the photo as if it were a snake.

Innocent sat down and sighed. She folded her hands and considered her words. "He had a head trauma and he was dying. He wanted you to know what you meant to him. No matter how you feel about this, it must be weighed in context. I think you would have found comfort in those words if they had been his last. Take them at that value and be aware of the power and faith he placed in you. If you can't return his feelings, at least be very gentle with them. That's all I am asking."

"Thank you, ma'am," Robbie said, his face flushed with mortification.

Robbie wandered around the city for a while, driving randomly. He went out to the Thames Bridge and pulled off onto the verge. He got out and stood in front of his car. The place looked different now with the sun shining and the river gurgling peacefully. It was a world away from the smell of petrol and ozone and winter.

He let his mind fall into accepting that he would never speak to Hathaway again, as if events had one way or the other led to James being gone from the world. A terrible weight filled him and he carefully read the words again.

**_R. L. Never doubt my affection. I never knew much love in this world and you taught me of its existence. The greatest regret on my soul is in not telling you. Please forgive me. Knowing you has been my greatest honor. Farewell and please remember me kindly. J._**

"I knew, soft lad," Robbie whispered to himself.

He sighed and started the car. In perspective, he knew his first reaction was pants. He didn't know what to do about the note, but his heart was not going to let him forget the words. Not often in life you had the chance to know that you were someone's last thoughts. He wouldn't bollocks this up if he could keep from it. He drove around for a bit longer, went back to the nick and worked on a suspect board, double checking the timelines and just puttering with the case to keep his mind occupied.

He drove straight to James' flat after work and let himself in.

James was exactly where he'd been when he left. He was curled into a tiny ball in one corner of the sofa, his face was down and his arm slung over his head protectively. Robbie felt his heart beating hard and fast as his mind took in the stillness and the bottle of pills clutched in his hand.

"James?" He whispered, fearing the worst. He reached out and touched him, expecting to find him cold.

James startled and jerked as if he were under attack and terrified. "Easy now. It's just me," Lewis said in quick relief, expelling the breath he'd been holding.

"Sir?" James mumbled in confusion.

"Are you alright, lad?"

"Fine," James groaned as he unfolded from his position.

"Don't look it," Robbie challenged.

"No. Not really. My head. It won't stop. Hurts. Really hurts. Took the pills, but…" James floundered around and then he began to wretch. Nothing came up after the first wave, but Robbie didn't waste any time. He bundled James up and drove him straight to hospital.

Post-concussion syndrome. They were informed. They kept James overnight and gave him a new list of rules, one of which included abstaining from alcohol. Robbie felt so guilty that they had tied one on, then the row had put James under emotional stress and when he'd been brought to the John Radcliffe it was determined that James was severely dehydrated and that that had probably contributed to the onset of his symptoms. The note was not forgotten exactly, but it was not the time to get into all of that in Robbie's mind. But, the words did not leave his heart for a second.


	8. Chapter 8: Pray For Us

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

**Chapter 8: Pray For Us**

Summary:

Robbie is hiding a secret and gets caught.

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><p><em>"Since faith rests upon infallible truth, and since the contrary of a truth can never be demonstrated, it is clear that the arguments brought against faith cannot be demonstrations, but are difficulties that can be answered."<em>

_― Thomas Aquinas_

Weeks passed and things returned to normal for them. Hathaway's injuries slowly reversed. He still had a strange lurch to his gait because the feeling had yet to completely return to his left side, but continued to improve. He still used a Zimmer frame at times, but he mostly got by with a cane.

James returned to work. He was on desk duty, but at least it seemed to improve his overall mood. They were in a sort of holding pattern where nothing much was changing.

Well, there were a few changes. James had required so much help at first and Robbie had basically moved himself into Hathaway's flat. When the time that he honestly needed help had passed, they never quite seemed to bring up the subject. Laura had stopped asking and Robbie had stopped pretending to James that he was only there temporarily, but he didn't quite admit he wasn't leaving either. Robbie had seen a glimpse of life without his sarcastic work-wife and the picture had been pretty dark for him.

He knew what he wanted to say, but he just didn't quite know how to make it sound less soppy and pathetic than what the truth meant. He was more gentle and attentive toward the younger man now. He'd always treated James as something of an annoying necessity with a bit of amused affection just to be playful, but now, he could barely stand for the boy to be out of his sight. It was almost as if he was afraid that if he took James for granted again, that God might go back on his prayers that had been answered that day and steal James away after all.

Secretly, and feeling foolish, Robbie still got down on his knees at some point in the day and literally thanked God for his mercy toward his awkward sod. It was a ritual or maybe some form of superstition, because he was afraid to miss a single day. Due to the fact that they stayed at James' place, that usually meant he bent down next to the tub he'd discovered James in, though sometimes he'd nip into a chapel if one was handy.

Inevitably, Robbie was caught whilst in this position, by the object of his prayers. James cleared his throat and offered a tentative and questioning, "Sir?"

Robbie blushed and sighed. "What do you want me to say?" he grouched guiltily.

"You found your faith. Why were you afraid to tell me? Of all people, surely you didn't expect me to berate you for the very thing you have watched me pray for countless times." James asked quietly, taking a seat on the toilet after letting down the lid.

Robbie sighed and twisted, finding a comfortable position on the floor and staring up at James. "I have never much known what you chat about when I find you that way. You telling me that you found my lack of god-bothering something needing addressed?"

"I have always kept you in my prayers, Robert. I would have thought that would be obvious." James dropped his eyes and twitched his foot with nervous tension .

Robbie smirked then said kindly, "I didn't think about it much, actually. Figured you asked for bigger things like world peace, healing of the sick, feeding the hungry and the end of misplaced apostrophes or something."

"Those too, of course. I have an extensive list."

"Can I ask you about something, on that day? You know…" He waved his hand at the tub behind him. "When you were alone and in such pain, probably scared out of your mind. What did you ask for then?"

James took a deep breath and his eyebrows rose as if he didn't want to say. "Do you want the easy answer? Or the truth? The easy answer was strength to satisfy his will without bitterness. Is that when this happened? You think God saved me from that fate you thought was mine and put me in this tub, instead? I was never in the river, you know. You can't be tricked into faith. If he'd wanted me that day, he would have taken me, with or without your prayer. "

Robbie looked apologetic as he answered, "I didn't once pray for your life, soft lad. The truth is… I thought that was gone. I'd never ask you to be brought back...like that. You'd laugh if I told you what I was most afraid of, or maybe you would understand. It was a long day for me so it was probably an eternity for you. But I do wonder what must have been going through your head, lying here that day. "

James smirked and sarcastically interjected, "Mostly a tire lever, according to the report. Lucky I'm so hard headed."

Robbie rolls his eyes and winces at the memory of the bruising on the boy's spine and face. "You were lucky there. Both of us, heads like anvils, yeah? Show me yours, as they say. I want the truth. If you don't mind me knowing."

"'Better to illuminate than merely to shine, to deliver to others contemplated truths than merely to contemplate.' In that case we should find something softer to sit on and maybe have a drink." James extended his hand as he rose and helped Robbie find his feet.

"You are not supposed to," Robbie reminded him firmly.

"Yes, well. I will risk that over risking this without something to ease my lack of courage. Or yours," James said with a contemplative sneer.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading - I very much adore hearing your opinion.<em>


	9. Chapter 9: Poor Banished Children

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

**Chapter 9: Poor Banished Children**

Summary:

Confessions and interrogations.

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><p><em>To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

"The parallel isn't lost on me. You thought I burned despite that you saved me from the fire once," James said as he took his seat next to Lewis.

"One of them said that. That day. I think I was in too much shock to put that together meself just yet. Would have got to me later though, no denying. The lot of heretics and saints, burning alive. I hadn't glimpsed the poor sod in the car as yet. But you and fire. Not a charming image. "

"I'm sorry you were inconvenienced on my behalf."

Robbie snorted in disapproval then gaped at his friend. "Inconvenienced? Is that what you think it was?"

James shrugged, but he kept his face smooth while he dropped his eyes to his glass. "I honestly have no idea, Robert. Sargent Maddox said you were rather stoic and stubborn. We tend to keep things on a certain level, between us. We seem to have lost no ground on our inability to chat-up each other's feelings."

Robbie was silent for some time but when he began, his voice was low and his eyes glazed over as if he were there again, on that bridge, looking into the churning eddies, "I stood on that bridge, in the storm. They said you died screaming. I knew you would be a horror to see. That it would change me somehow. They tried valiantly to keep me away. Told the busy-bodies that I had to bring you home. But mostly I wanted them to leave me alone and let me be. I could hear you talking to me and I can't lie, your death had torn a new hole in me heart, and brought me a despair so heavy it was crushing me."

James didn't move. His eyes closed as Robbie spoke. His voice was dark and cautious when he answered, "I would never want to affect you in that way. I wasn't afraid of death. What had me terrified was the fact I might be useless or an encumbrance. I feared being crippled more than the end of my life. Completely ridiculous, I know. But, I feared it because I would either be a burden to you or I would lose you entirely."

"Daft sod. Your life was more than I asked for. We would have faced it as best we could. Hasn't been so bad these last weeks. There's more to you than a set of legs, James."

"What did you pray for? If not a miraculous resurrection."

Robbie hesitates at James' slightly mocking tone and sighs with frustration. He takes a deep breath and drops his eyes to his hands as he speaks in lurches, "The first time they brought the car up and it fell back in, you said to me that you couldn't be properly buried, because you didn't die in grace. I prayed for a loop-hole. Not my beliefs. Doesn't make sense to me, but I prayed that you wouldn't, I don't know, wink out or not move on because you judged yourself too harshly. You didn't feel gone and maybe it's because you actually weren't, but I just needed to help you go where you belonged. See?"

James has a kind smile on his face but his eyes leak without shame. "Where do you think I belong?"

Robbie looked up like James was taking a piss but the look on Hathaway's face showed he wasn't. "If not right here with me? Heaven, of course, you daft sod. With me dear Val and hopefully Endeavor too."

"Who?"

"Morse. Endeavor Morse. Parents were Quakers or some such."

"I see. So, you do believe in heaven?" James asked, his own eyes dropping.

"I don't know. I believe in something. More. Maybe not exactly what the God-botherers want to sell us. Maybe it's something we can't exactly understand. But when I lost you too…I had to…keep you safe. It's me Job…I … Oh bollocks, I don't know. I'm not trying to make you..do that, lad." Robbie becomes more flustered and frustrated as he tries to understand why James looks so miraculous and broken as he weeps. "You told me that you didn't die in grace. Thinking of you, not going to your version of paradise, hurt more than you dying. Knowing that you would believe it too was upsetting so, well, that's what I asked for as the day wore on."

"You prayed for my soul." James stated with his voice deep and eyes shining. Tears rolled down his cheek with every blink of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. Don't cry…I—"

James grinned and more tears spilled "Good tears."

"Val used to say that. Still don't know what it means. Why?"

"Because you imagine me joining people you love. Because you had no faith for yourself, but you found some for me. Because no one has ever prayed for me without being bound by duty. Not ever and you humbled your stubborn lost heart, for me. Not just in the moment of grief, begging for something you wanted to happen, but in hope, and he gave you your loophole."

"You were not dead. You said that yourself. That it was stupid."

"But you continued after you knew I wasn't dead. After you got what you wanted. Even after I said that."

"Didn't seem right. Got more than I asked for. Can't go back on me word." Robbie frowned then and added, "You were going to be a priest, James. People have prayed for you. Have to have, because you're the best man I ever met. Loved Morse and respected him, but he was a bloody dick most of the time."

"But it is your believe that he found redemption?" James questioned with amusement.

"Yeah. He did a lot of good, you know. Faced hard things other people didn't want to see. Helped people. Made a difference to a lot of people. Made a difference to me. Morse suffered horribly. Not many people could see it. He couldn't stand the sight of a dead body. Fell in love at the drop of a pin then spent years suffering for them, missing them. He pined more than anyone I ever knew. He always picked the wrong ones. Married, doomed, murdering nutter, always the broken ones. Spent his whole life out of step with everyone. He'd finally find a connection and without exception, lose them in a wink. It's why he drank. Poor bugger." Robbie sighed. "If he doesn't deserve it after it all, well, I can't imagine who does."

"I wish it worked that way. You see him in me, don't you? I remind you of him?" James says kindly but the eyebrows tell Robbie that something he said troubled the younger man.

Robbie reached out his hand and placed it gently on top of Hathaway's as he leaned in to meet his eyes sincerely. "In some ways, yes. You are both very different people, but I imagine you would have had things to argue about. I don't know if you would have got on very well, but you would have had a grand time bickering about a lot of nonsense in old books and who'd pick the music."

"Three things are necessary for the salvation of man: to know what he ought to believe; to know what he ought to desire; and to know what he ought to do." James smiled and sighed, then added "Aquinas."

"Man made all those rules, James. Might have been brilliant and God's own but they also might have been a lot more full of themselves then they cared to admit. If you put all your hope in the rules that men made, then your faith is just in man. Isn't that the guy who said something about the things we love tell us what we are?" Robbie asked with his eyes locked on James.

James nodded, "He did. You have been reading my books?"

"A bit. Got that off the internet though. Don't get your hope built up too high because a lot of people love treacle, but it isn't good for us. Tastes sweet whilst rotting your teeth." he said, voice kind and sure. Robbie grinned and squeezed Hathaway's hands.

"Men of great faith and with deific inspiration set the words of God down. You can't believe that your prayers were answered and deny the divinity of their wisdom." His brow furrowed as he offered the response.

"You're a clever clogs and you could write that stuff all day and it would be just as inspiring. Doesn't mean you are God, James. Doesn't mean you got it word for word perfect. Still be just one opinion even with the best of intentions. Not saying all that stuff is bad, but we don't know. What if one of them had decided that a trip to the bogs was a sin, people would be sitting around dying of ruptured colons to prove their faith. Sure, I prayed for your soul that day. But not one of them answered me. Something bigger did. Something that gave me more than I dreamed could be that day. See?" Robbie challenged.

"I honestly do. More than you probably envision. The argument is that God set the rules in the heart of man and therefore they are still of God. The blackened soul as well as the clean soul can be redeemed through faith not deeds. I never left God. I can't reconcile all the laws and ritual with the comfort I feel. What you have just told me, I can't even explain how much it means. You gave up anger, betrayal and hatred and used that dusted off pent up faith to ask for my soul. That is important. Do you see that?"

Robbie shrugged, "Not really, I mean you weren't actually dead."

"Think about that for just a moment. Wasn't I?"

"Obviously not. You're here, aren't you?"

"There is the crux of the matter. You see, I asked Laura what possessed her to drop you off at my flat."

Robbie pursed his lips, "I think my demanding it had something to do with it. I can be a little stubborn when I get something in me head, or so I'm told."

"Exactly. You prayed all day for my soul. Planned to recruit an expert to find you a loophole for my soul. Here is the thing. I didn't die in the river, but you didn't know that. Was I destined to die in my bathtub? It would have been days before anyone thought to look for me. It took four days to identify the man in the car, four days for the DNA tests and dental records to be sent back. Would have taken just as long to find out that that was not me. When you found me, give me an honest opinion of how much longer I had to live."

"That would be a bit hard to say…"

"Dr. Hobson gave me her opinion. With my position, on my back but crunched forward, concussed and unable to move, she assured me my continued existence could be measured in hours. Four days would have been impossible. It would have been five, including the day it took to extract him from the car. I was inches from the taps and couldn't reach them. One more round of nausea might have even done it. My body was dehydrated, stressed, and I was experiencing the mild hallucinogenic effects of oxygen deprivation, getting too weak to breathe properly and toxins were pooling due to inability to move. The process had begun. I knew. Please don't be disappointed in me, but you should understand. The pain had exhausted me. I had lost my will to continue. I had stopped praying for that. I prayed that death would get on with it."

"If a beating on the head won't kill you, a few hours lounging around can't do much more harm." Robbie said playing down what he knew very well could have happened.

"Sir," James said it in such a way that it conveyed his disappointment that his former Guv thought he could pull the wool over his eyes and that he would attempt such an obvious falsehood.

"Fine. Are we wandering through the feels all day here, or are you getting to a point?"

James stood and motioned that he was going to smoke. Robbie followed him outside and leaned against the bins, arms crossed and defensive.

James blew smoke skyward and asked carefully. "They said you stood on that bridge like a palace guard. That even when the lightening shut the crew down, that you wouldn't take shelter. When I first heard that, I thought you were testing God or suicidal. Now I understand. Fearless with lightening all around you? Rain mixed with sleet, you were lucky you didn't end up with hypothermia. You had had a long horrible day."

"The worst." Robbie agreed ignoring the rest. He was giving this interrogation no help.

"Describe your normal routine on a day like that."

Robbie shrugged, "Not many to compare it to. Home, drink, bed. Too bloody exhausted to eat."

"What did you tell Laura on this day?"

Lewis shrugged and answered, "I wanted to go to yours. She told you that too."

James nodded. He clarified warily, "You felt something pull you to my flat."

"Yes. Sort of, I don't know. I was half-mad with grief by then," Robbie looked up at the stars, his patience obviously wearing thin.

"Did you spend the night in Morse' flat, the night he died?"

"God no. Took me weeks to go round. Couldn't face it. Took me two years to drive his bloody car he left me."

"I have never seen you drive it. I have known for some time that you own it."

"Makes me feel sappy. I tinker about with it just enough to keep it up. Can't seem to sell it either, but …" Robbie stopped speaking and zoned out for a moment. Without another word he turned and walked back into the flat, slamming the door.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading. We know that Morse left half his estate to Robbie and if the other half set up a scholarship, we know it must have been somewhat significant. Yes, in the opening of Lewis, he is almost hit by a similar car, but I like to think that Morse treated his car like Dean Winchester treats Baby, so I have to think that he would have made sure it had a good home. We never see Robbie drive it - but I still like to imagine he has it tucked away somewhere. I would be haunting someone if the person I leave it to were to sell MY Jag. <em>


	10. Chapter 10: Eyes of Mercy

**Grace and Reason**

**Howlynn**

**Chapter 10: Eyes of Mercy**

Summary:

The opening of the heart and the death of despair.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

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><p><em>Because of the diverse conditions of humans, it happens that some acts are virtuous to some people, as appropriate and suitable to them, while the same acts are immoral for others, as inappropriate to them.<em>

_~Thomas Aquinas_

James stubbed out his fag and followed his friend. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching Lewis finish his whisky, for a few long seconds before speaking, "Put it together yet?"

Lewis punched the buttons on the remote furiously giving up when he couldn't make all the gadgets play well together. He tossed it aside and leaned, elbows on knees, hands massaging his scalp as if he could make all of this go away.

" You would have eventually found me and you would have had to live with the fact that I would have died in despair, waiting for you to come and not understanding why you never did. I wouldn't have blamed you, just so you know. But I was in despair that something similar may have happened to you. I had no other explanations that fit and even that didn't explain why not even a constable was sent round. What would your life have been like? " His tone was gentle and Hathaway's words were said slowly and deliberately as he approached Robbie and settled down in front of him, sitting gingerly on the coffee table.

Robbie's face was blank. He grasped James' hands and squeezed hard. His eyes pressed shut and his head shook as if denying that terrible picture.

" You're not given to hallucinations nor any propensity to supposed visions. Clearly my ghostly spirit did not actually haunt you into rescuing me. Yet, you were called here. My voice, Robert. You can play it down or blame it on all sorts of reasonable things. But here you are. A prideful man humbles himself with an act of perfect faith and contrition is how I chose to see it. Not my life, but my soul. He gave you your loophole. I shall spend my life attempting to be worthy of it," James said sniffling and wiping his eyes.

"Told Laura that I couldn't save you for me, but that I was going to try to save you, for you. She didn't believe me. Thought I meant to top meself. Crossed me mind. Mortal sin, that, yeah? According to your rules?"

"What if you had found no answers? If you felt in your heart I had been condemned for my sins? It is what I deserve, in all honesty."

Robbie's eyes locked on James. "That is not true, lad. I don't care what anyone else on this planet believes. I will never believe that. So if that's the way it works, that mortal sin bit would become a means to an end. If you go, I go."

"Even if my place is in hell and your place is redemption?"

"I think that if you love someone, that sipping Elysian tea and lounging on puffy clouds while the harps are endlessly plucked, knowing what you love is being tortured every second without hope, would be a much worse hell than screaming together." Robbie shoots back in his best present-the-evidence voice.

James dropped his eyes and quoted, "To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless."

"I like that." Robbie said, reaching out and gently touching James' face, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"G.K. Chesterton," James volunteered.

"You are not unlovable, soft lad."

"But I do hope in the face of hopeless circumstance. And you, my dearest Robert Lewis, have faith."

Robbie stood up and paced the floor, trying to figure out how to say what he was about to say. He had to make James understand but leave him an easy escape route. "Then it's time to see if the unforgivable can be forgiven. I know I have nothing to offer you and the reality is, I look like a used up copper with the world on me shoulders, have the personality of a county stump, and you'd be a right git to ever take up with a sad old plod, but I also know that the way you look at me sometimes isn't all in me head. You've never said a word, but there are rumors all over the nick. I can't even tell you when it happened. Before the bridge, mind, but that's when I knew that it wasn't just…a temporary little glitch. Would it be unforgivable if I told you that that, oh hell. James, sometimes I think about more. Between us."

James fingers pressed against his own lips. His other hand was clenched to his heart as if in pain. He was breathing far too rapidly and shallow and his skin was quickly losing color. James was shaking all over now and looking up at Robbie with some mix of hurt, horror and hope that made him look about twelve years old.

Robbie takes his body language to mean that his words could not have been more unwelcome. "Aw lad. I should have just kept that to meself. If I read this wrong, then we don't have to—"

"No." James hissed. "Please, don't take it back. Don't."

Robbie stood still, mouth open in midsentence, trying to collate what was just said. He gave a deep sigh and then a multitude of wrinkles appearing on his forehead. The expression showed that at this point his gearbox was spinning but the tachometer was red-lining. He sat down next to James and folded his hands between his knees, unsure of what to do or say.

James concentrated hard to calm his breathing and finally he spoke, casting side-glances at his companion. "I didn't know that I meant so much to anyone until the time in hospital. I was overwhelmed by the cards and words of kindness. I don't think most people can stand me, if they notice me at all. My Sergeant, I thought she hated me, actually. Some people seem to think I am attractive, but if I let them in, give them a glimpse of me, they seem to discover their error. Most often it happens just as I begin to trust them a little. It is easier to simply remain detached."

"Some detective. There were a lot of people who don't think you are a complete and utter tosser ," Robbie added.

James scoffed, recalling their first case and how he'd requested that he be allowed to keep working with the 'crusty old bastard' as Lewis had been known when he'd been away on his tropical excursion. Compared to his last headmaster, DI Lewis was nearly a cheerful Lothario. His instructional skills and puzzle solving were far superior to his last DI. " I didn't know much about you at first. But I did trust you. How I felt for you stemmed from that rare state of affairs. I blocked it out and hid it away most of the time. But you quite often amaze me and the task becomes difficult. Impossible, evidently. An altogether unfitting kind of trust finally bloomed, following the hearts light across the unreachable sky."

"But if you trusted me, why do you keep your past so close? I don't even know who to call if you die, James." Lewis asked, blushing at Hathaway's poetic nonsense.

"There actually is nobody to call. That's part of it, I suppose. What few genetic relatives that I have left wouldn't wish to be called. I felt the church was my family once, but I made myself the shunned blacksheep of that family as well. I have never had much luck in the dating pool. Then I became a policeman and I meet criminals and other policemen with schedules as mad as my own. Not much time for bonding there, when most have families waiting for their precious off hours. I find being in this profession puts people off a bit. They either fear that their little cannabis stash will be discovered or they find my constant need to break engagements too frustrating to put up with. The members of my band tolerate me because I am useful to their own goals, but again, they lead normal lives that don't involve arsenic and gunfire."

"Well that isn't your fault, that they don't know how to have fun."

"It does embarrass me, Robbie. A man of my age with nothing but burnt bridges in my past and corpses in my future. What does that say about me that anyone could look upon in a favorable way? It makes me the creepy loaner, prone to cat husbandry and criminal sexual deviance. If I kick off tomorrow, the extensive list of mourners would have, perhaps, three names."

"Not true. Innocent would see to the turnout. Mr. Innocent alone would be sorry to see his best stand-in gone," Lewis said with deadpan solemnity.

"He'd cry. Definitely. Assuming he exists," Hathaway conceded with a small smirk and a shrug.

"No proof of him either, far as I know. Quantity doesn't mean love. Me old Guv had a huge turnout, but once the big show was over, only about four of us ever went back because we wanted too. Maybe needed to. He requested no service of any kind. I think he was afraid of people showing up just for obligation. He didn't know. We just got together and raised a pint to him, just a farewell, and people came from all over. "

"My vanity is restored," James said with a cocky snicker.

"Cheeky yob. Get back to what I asked you."

" Alright, if you are sure you want to hear it?" He paused, looking over at Robbie for a final affirmation. "I was dying, and I truly didn't mind so much. I was in a great deal of pain at that point and so thirsty. I couldn't seem to stay awake and I had both vomited and soiled myself. I prayed that if I did expire that you not be the one to find me, partially because I didn't want to cause you pain but mostly due to my own pride, especially when it has to do with you. Unsurprisingly, I was content to find I would need no more long walks to hold my soul together. I did the best I could with my own last rights and I heard someone in the flat, but because there was no siren or flashing lights or call outs indicating a police presence, I simply closed my eyes and accepted that I didn't deserve mercy and would have to endure the end I was meant to have. I believe I wept silently for a moment or two, realizing how foolish I had been about many things. It is strange to know it is all over and see all the things you didn't do. I must have slipped away again."

"I knew someone had been here. It just never crossed my mind that it wasn't some early bird, here to pick through your things."

"I don't really have much of value." James admitted with a shrug.

Robbie snorted then shook his head, "Most of us carry around far too much clutter. When Val died, that was almost as overwhelming as all the rest of it combined. Sorting all these ridiculous things we'd acquired. Not wanting to keep it and feeling guilt for letting it go. Simple is better. Is that all then?"

James dropped his head and closed his eyes as if stealing himself for confession. He nodded with an inner resolve, born of disappointment. He knelt down in front of Robbie, taking his hands and holding them in a near death-grip. James bowed his head, touching his forehead to their joined hands before speaking, "I asked for the chance to tell you something. Guess I had better not back out now. I have been in love with you for a very long time, Robert. Obsessed and besotted. What small measures of love I found in this world, I destroyed in ignorance. No matter if you want it or not, my heart will forever be truly and utterly yours to command. If you have to some extent found reason to partially return those feelings in any extent you feel appropriate, then my prayers were more than answered too," James admitted shyly.

Robbie waited for James to look at him, pulling one of his hands away and smiling with awkwardness, he scratched his ear and shook his head as he said. "I don't know exactly what to do next here."

"I have waited a long time. I can wait until you figure it out," James answered.

Robbie gave James one of his appraising detectives looks and asked gruffly, "If I already have it figured out? You going to run or have some crisis with your existential flu?"

James shrugged.

Robbie reached into his pocket and pulled out the crime scene photo, unfolding it and holding it up for James to see. "I wondered if you meant this or if it was just because you thought you were dying. Worried it was head trauma and not real. I was not flying blind here, lad, but I wanted to know before I took it for granted. Thanks for trusting me."

"You knew? All this time?" James seemed to wilt a little.

"Doesn't matter. All the evidence in the world. Didn't convince me. You did that, just now."

Robbie leaned closer and his eyes dropped to Hathaway's lips. James swallowed then took a deep breath and closed his lips to Robbie's. It was tentative and gentle at first but Robbie let slip a growl of desire and the sound seemed to energize James. They were soon panting and touching as if lost in a fog of sensation.

They finally parted and James whispered. "This is not what I expected from my day."

"How's the flu?"

James took a deep breath and held it, then looked up at Robert shaking his head in wonder. "Oh, Robert. I have the utmost faith that I have found a cure for my existential flu."

"That's nice. Oh and you will be taking the promotion over at Aylesbury," Robbie ordered.

"Will I, now? You command my heart, not my career. Robert," James stated with umbrage.

Robbie chuckled and mocked, "Call it an act of contrition."

"For what?"

Robbie gave him one of those hard meaningful looks. "To say sorry for making me hear that you love me from Jean Innocent first and making me have to face that note in front of her, canny lad."

James looked mortified, "Oh. Letting me off easy, then, in fact."

"Pushover, me," He said with a chummy hug.

They were quiet for a moment, then James pointedly mentioned, "If I take it, it means I will outrank you."

Robbie grinned skeptically, "Don't be too prideful about that. Morse found that to be more chaos than ecstasy."

"I have heard rumors. I guess where there is fire, there is sometimes a little light as well."

"I love you too, bonny lad."

_ camera fade, cue music, roll credits _

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><p><em><strong>Author notes:<strong>_

I thank you kindly for reading and I hope I have meddled with these characters within the parameters of believability. I dabbled in the unexplained and though I am not Catholic, hope I managed to work within the views of DI Hathaway and what his perspective would attribute to events. If I have erred, please understand, I have not been to Mass since I was small and had the privilege of regular invitation by my Doctor's wife. She taught me a great respect and love for the basic ideas and Christmas has never been right without attending Midnight Mass ever since. The chapter heads, of course, came from the prayers of the rosary with the exception of Chapter four.

Hathaway often quotes Thomas Aquinas and he was a great teacher of both religion and philosophy. He is considered the model teacher to be studied for those intending to go into the priesthood so I wanted to share some of my favorite quotes that this man had attributed to him. Remember, that he died 7 March 1274. It was not a time of fairytales, but of failed crusades (8th & 9th) and Kublai Khan and the mongrel hordes. The church tried to address the east-west schism at the second council of Lyons the very year he passed away. There is famine and epidemic disease across Europe. He saw Pope Innocent IV authorize torture to be used on heretics and the beginning of the inquisition, yet he still taught. I think that it says something about Hathaway that this Friar of jokes and deep thought and gentle spirit in the face of daily horror would be who the almost priest turned policeman would identify with.

I am not terribly concerned with the physical aspect of Lewis and Hathaway. They will find their way. (The silly actors have given us multiple kissy shots to feed our adoration of these character's couple moments.) I mostly wanted to address the emotional side which is far more complex, in its devastation and its glory: Loss and redemption, sorrow and kindness, faith and disbelief, experience vs teachings, Love and guilt. Those are the things that make or break our lives. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you all for your kind reviews.


End file.
